Renee

 

The first thing I noticed was the pounding. That was always the first thing you noticed when hungover. Your head would be pounding with this splitting sensation that drove you up the wall. It was enough to make you move around and get out of bed, but as soon as you did, it got worse.

 

Which was why I tried to linger in my bed for as long as I could.

 

And that was the second thing I noticed. I’m in my own bed. That sent all kinds of strange, quick emotions through me. One was panic, because as I realized I had not fallen asleep in my bed last night, I realized that someone had to have moved me there. With that came flashbacks from the previous night. How drunk I’d been, how uncharming my pretty boy attempted rapist had been. How I’d tried to get away.

 

I shuddered and finally scrambled out of bed despite my head feeling like it was going to split open at any moment so that I could stumble to the master bath that was thankfully located in my room. I went directly to the toilet and emptied whatever contents lingered in my stomach. It wasn’t much, but it smelled slightly of alcohol and of course stomach bile.

 

Not a pleasant thing first thing in the morning, but then neither had the flashing images of that damned man.

 

I couldn’t recall everything from last night. I’d gotten so hammered so quickly that I doubted I ever would.

 

No big loss there, I thought bitterly. At least I wouldn’t have to live with a lot of memories of that asshole. It wasn’t as good as it having never happened at all, but it made me feel marginally better. At least I told myself it did. In reality, not remembering was almost just as bad as having it actually happen. Not quite, but close.

 

It was strange how not knowing something could be devastating.

 

When I was finally sure that my stomach was empty, I slowly got up. My face felt flushed and kind of gross—I realized that I hadn’t had the chance to wash off my makeup from the previous night. As I got to the mirror, I saw that my makeup was mostly intact, since it was waterproof and theoretically smear proof it had weathered the night fairly well. Unfortunately, it was still day old makeup and I looked like hell warmed over.

 

I was flushed thanks to the early morning vomiting and my eyes were rimmed in red. I could recall crying on and off the night before, which was not encouraging.

 

As I began to rake through my hair, I realized that Saber had been there through it all. Most of it anyway, I amended silently. I couldn’t recall a lot of specifics, but I could remember how he’d carried me. He’d carried me and given me his jacket—then later his shirt.

 

I felt marginally embarrassed and paused the brushing of my teeth so I could wince. I’d made a real fool of myself the night before, but he’d taken it all in stride. He hadn’t been angry—well, not with me anyway—and he hadn’t been judgmental. He’d been sweet and comforting, taking care of me while I sobbed and looked like a total wreck.

 

I shook my head, then began with renewed vigor to brush my teeth. I was going to shower this morning. Shower and wash out my hair, which probably still smelled of party. Scrub the horrible lingering makeup off my face and then scrub at my skin until it was pink, shiny, and looked new as a babe born yesterday.

 

I wanted the lingering remnants of that asshole off of me. And this dress, which I was pleased to notice I was still wearing beneath Saber’s shirt, was going to be burned. Actually, maybe torn up first. Yes, shredded and then burned and then the charred remains buried six feet under in my garden. Maybe beneath the roses.

 

It wouldn’t be enough, I was sure, but it would be a start. I was reeling from the fact that that had even happened to me.

 

How had this happened to me?

 

I was being stupid, I admonished myself, rinsing out my mouth. And it was true, I had been stupid. I knew all the rhetoric around women who had been assaulted. How there was victim blaming on top of the victim doing the actual blaming on herself. There was all this guilt and self-hatred and the feeling that it was just all your fault.

 

Well, I didn’t want to feel like that. I knew that it wasn’t my fault, whatever poor decision I had made. But even as I knew that in my mind and even in my very bones, I couldn’t quite convince the rest of me to believe it.

 

How stupid are you, Renee Teana?

 

I shoved the thought aside, then stripped out of my clothing. As I removed Saber’s shirt, I caught the smell of smoke and grease and something else that was identifiably him. It shot a flood of warmth through me, comforting in a way that I didn’t think anything could be ever again.

 

With it came more memories of the night before. But at least this time they were pleasant. I could remember crawling into Saber’s lap, leaning down. I remembered the kiss that had started innocently enough and turned into a blazing wildfire that couldn’t be stopped.

 

I shuddered with pleasure at the memory of it.

 

I was slightly at odds with myself about it. The memory of it was so good, so deliciously wonderful and pleasant, that I couldn’t help but want for more of it. And not just that. It made me want to go farther, to explore more things with him, and while some of that was a lingering need to be comforted and safe—who knew he would end up being the provider of those things?—there was more to it, too. I just wanted him, and right now, that made me feel a little bad about it.

 

Was I supposed to be feeling like that so soon after what had happened last night?

 

I wasn’t sure and I didn’t think I could work through it right that minute. My head was still pounding and I still felt gross in ways I never had before. Turning the water on high and hot, I let it steam up the bathroom for just a moment before stepping in. The water was hot enough that it pricked at my skin and made me flinch and then stretch a little under the slight pain of it. But as my body got used to the extreme temperature, I began to relax. Slowly but surely the water washed away so much of the grime from the night before.

 

I scrubbed the makeup off my face half a dozen times it seemed, then brushed my teeth again for good measure. Grabbing the shampoo, I washed my hair twice, then conditioned it. Then I decided it wasn’t clean enough and I repeated the whole process. After that, I was doing things just for an excuse to stay in the shower for longer.

 

Shaved my legs. Combed my hair in the shower. Washed my face again. Brushed my teeth one last time.

 

Finally, I just had to accept that it was time to get out. I was beet red and a little dizzy when I finally did just that, but I still felt better than I had. Or at least I felt cleaner anyway. I towel dried and wrapped up my hair. My clothes were lingering on the floor of the bathroom and I cringed slightly at the sight of the dress.

 

Definitely burn it.

 

I kicked it away from me behind the door as I stepped back into my room and rummaged through my closet for something to wear.

 

Something modest and comfortable. Like sweats, but not those track suit kinds you got from Victoria’s Secret. I wanted something that hid my petite frame for once. This morning, I didn’t want to be noticed.

 

I finally settled on an oversized shirt that I’d stolen from Uncle Ryder years ago and a pair of sweats that were a size too big and thus hung about my hips loosely. I had to tie them to keep them up, but they covered all of my legs and folded over the tops of my feet, too.

 

I felt better hiding, and worse at the same time.

 

I’ll be brave later, I promised myself.

 

Padding to my bedroom door, I noticed that it was open and that the door to the room across from it was, too. I could see the bed, which was not where it had been before, I was almost positive. Maybe I had that room redone recently, I thought to myself, going out into the hall. I went to the stairs, wondering where Saber was.

 

Had he left? Surely not; Ryder had made it clear that he was going to be stuck to me like glue whether either of us liked it or not. That meant staying here at the house with me. Yet even as I reminded myself of these details, I frowned as a nagging sensation swept me. Had he decided he was fed up? Was last night just too much drama, too much stupidity?

 

I wouldn’t blame him if he had, but it left me feeling slightly hollow.

 

I had squashed down all hopes of finding Saber because it would have been worse if I came downstairs, thinking maybe he was just having a cup of coffee, only to find that he really was gone. Which was why when I reached the ground level and found him in the kitchen doing just that, I had to pause and catch my breath.

 

Relief was the first thing that filled me, followed quickly by embarrassment and apprehension. Buried amidst these things was something else, too. Desire. But I wasn’t ready to deal with that yet, so I focused on the others as I padded over to him, the tiles cold beneath my bare feet.

 

“Hey,” I murmured, because it was all I could get past the lump in my throat.

 

Saber had a mug of steaming black coffee half raised to his mouth when he glanced to look at me. There was a slew of emotions behind his dark eyes, but I couldn’t seem to decipher any of them. It didn’t help that I couldn’t make myself meet his steady gaze.

 

“Good morning,” he told me, putting his mug down and standing. “Do you want coffee?”

 

My stomach rumbled a little bit and I wasn’t sure if that was a sign for food or a warning against it. Either way, I thought coffee might be safe. I gave him a weak smile. “Please.”

 

He went around the counter where he’d been sitting to grab a mug from one of the cupboards. I could have told him which was my favorite and how much I expected to be in that mug when I got it, but I wasn’t going to. Whatever he gave me right now was fine.

 

I studied the lines of his back, which were well defined and easily spotted through the thin t-shirt he wore. His hair was thick and looked a little damp, like maybe he’d taken a shower not so long ago himself, though the tips were curling as pieces dried. I couldn’t see his face or expression right now, that was pointed at the coffee pot, but I remembered it easily enough. Hard, striking plains with a square jaw that grew a dark stubble that should have been off putting, unkempt—but wasn’t. I thought of his full lips, how soft they were.

 

It was foolish to be watching him so closely, so interested in his looks, just like it had been foolish of me to have kissed him last night. But what was most foolish, what should have gotten me thrown into crazy town, was the thoughts that continued to swirl in my head.

 

He cleaned up nicely, a little voice in my head offered, though I hardly cared about all of that. And he’s very protective, and strong.

 

I shook my head a little to try and clear the thoughts away, because this was a really bad idea. He was one of Uncle Ryder’s. He was only here to protect me.

 

“Cream? Sugar?” he asked as he poured the tar black concoction into my mug. It had a big yellow star on it and said SUPERSTAR! beneath. Uncle Ryder had given it to me after I’d landed my first part. It happened to be my favorite mug.

 

I shook my head, my stomach roiling in protest at the suggestion. No, I definitely didn’t want any cream or sugar or milk or anything of the like. Coffee sounded good, it sounded like the kind of thing that would coat my stomach and settle it, but the rest of it sounded only like trouble.

 

“No, thanks,” I told him, sliding into the seat he had just vacated. Which was when I spotted the letters.

 

I froze.

 

Those letters weren’t difficult to recognize. I’d seen them a thousand times, pouring over them again and again while holding the physical letter or in the dead of night seeing it behind my eyelids, preventing it from sleep.

 

Dearest Renee, the letter began, and that alone was enough for me to shudder, a chill running through me as my hands grew clammy.

 

I have thought of you often since the last time we met. The smooth, silky quality of your hair and the shimmery lipstick you so often like to wear. You had on that summer dress, do you remember? The one that was baby blue and set off your large eyes so perfectly. It was modest, stopping just above your knees and had the little white ruffles at the edge that matched the white lace that dipped down your neckline. I remember the beads of sweat that slipped down there along your soft skin, tickling until you laughed gaily. How sweet a sound.

 

It was a casual day for us and I will treasure it. I thought surely you would, too.

 

But maybe I’m wrong, my dearest love.

 

Maybe you do not appreciate what we have between us like I thought. After Germaine, I thought we’d worked through our troubles. I thought we could finally be happy together. I promised you picnics in the park and leisurely floats on the boat. I promised you everything under the sun and then more!

 

And then I find Rodriguez. That betrayal cut deeper than any other. After everything I’ve done for you. After all the nights I stayed up and watched you, protected you as you walked to your car, as you drank too much and danced with those horrid bitches you call friends. After everything, you would treat me so?

 

I have loved you with all that is me, Renee! I LOVE YOU! And then you toss me aside like a piece of trash again and again! You lie with men who could never make you happy!

 

You BITCH! You horrendous, cheating BITCH!

 

After all we’ve been through!

 

Well, I can’t forgive this one, Renee. I won’t let you just walk all over my heart. This time, you’ll either be mine forever or you’ll have to DIE, BITCH!

 

It was signed with Your Greatest Love, but no real name. Of course. They were all kind of like that. They started off all gushy, like I was the most wonderful woman in the world, as though I could do no wrong. And then they slipped away…the words became strange at first. Whoever it was, he would talk about outings we’d had together. I had thought of course, they’re made up, that the guy was certainly just delusional. But as I read through the letters, each of them containing details for that specific outing, I began to realize something.

 

They were real.

 

I could still remember the day I had worn that blue sundress. It had been a hot summer’s day and I’d gone to the park with a few “social” friends. Part of it was for appearances, there was always going to be paparazzi around, but part of it was that we were also just having a really good day. It was warm, it was breezy, it was sunny—it was a perfect day.

 

Then I got the letter about a week or so later. I had proceeded to absolutely destroy that dress. I’d ripped it to shreds, put some of it through the garbage disposal, and the rest went into the fireplace even though it was the middle of summer.

 

After the letter spoke of our most perfect day, he’d deteriorate. For every good thing I’d done while we were supposedly together, I’d done something terrible to him afterwards. For a long time, it had been Germaine. Before him it had been Elliot, and after him it was Rodriguez. He hated whenever I was dating someone. Whenever I got someone new, he would threaten me. He would tell me to drop this new guy like a hot potato, or I’d be sorry.

 

But this letter, this one had been the first one that promised very real, very serious repercussions. This was the first one that promised I would be physically harmed if I didn’t do as I was told.

 

“Where did you get this?” My voice came out like shards of ice, but I couldn’t help it. And I didn’t want to. I asked the question, but ultimately I already knew the answer. There was only one place he could have gotten it.

 

I saw Saber tense, holding my mug of steaming coffee, and hesitantly search my face and my posture and the damn letters like he was trying to piece together a puzzle that might lead him to the right answer.

 

Eventually, he let out a sigh and came over to me. I stiffened, but he only put the coffee mug down in front of me. He kept the counter between us, which was probably a really good idea right now.

 

“I saw them last night when I put you to bed,” he answered finally, keeping his voice mild though it grew deep at the word bed.

 

I swallowed. “You looked through my things?” I demanded, feeling anger and other things bubble up within me at the same time. “You took things from my room? Private things?” My voice was growing louder as I spoke and some part of me knew that it wasn’t fair, that I was about to pick a fight with him over little, stupid things. I didn’t have to ask him to know why he’d taken these letters. The answer was obvious in the bold, blood red writing. DIE, BITCH. It was his job to protect me, how could he do that while ignoring a blatant threat?

 

Even so, I felt indignant, angry, and more than that, I felt bare. As though he could now see some vulnerable part of me. And he’d already seen enough of that.

 

“What gave you the right to—”

 

But he cut me off. “It’s my job to protect you, to make sure you’re safe!” He reached over and snatched up the letters—he’d taken two or three it looked like—waving them in an angry fist, shoving them at me. “How am I supposed to do that when you don’t tell me what’s really going on? Does Ryder even know about these?”

 

I opened and closed my mouth a half a dozen times. Of course he didn’t know about the damn letters! But I found that right in that moment, I didn’t want to tell Saber that. I didn’t want him to know that I’d been holding on to those letters, hiding them away in fear and shame, unwilling to get Ryder truly riled up over something that could be devastating. I didn’t want to tell him that I’d been terrified—both of the letter and of what Ryder might do.

 

I didn’t want to tell him anything, so I told him nothing.

 

He made an angry, frustrated sound low in his throat. “Damnit, Renee!” Even angry, I found I liked the way my name sounded on his lips. “How am I supposed to keep you safe when I don’t know? How is Ryder supposed to stop this psychopath when he only has half the information?”

 

I wanted to still be angry, maybe even angry enough to throw that coffee mug at him, because it was easier than feeling like a small child in trouble. And it was definitely easier than feeling afraid.

 

“Did you at least go to the damn police?” Saber asked finally, his voice still rough, but he sounded wearier than anything else.

 

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Of course not! Are you crazy? Do you honestly think I’d call my uncle and tell him about this right after going to the police?”

 

He slumped a little at that, looking properly admonished. He made a noise in his throat, then rubbed his fingers into his eyes, looking like he hadn’t slept in the least the night before. Maybe he hadn’t, I couldn’t say. There were heavy bags under his eyes and lines drawn on his face that I didn’t think were there the night before.

 

Finally, he said in a much calmer voice, “Okay, fine. No police. But you did call your uncle. And he is looking into it. I think, at this point, it’s important to tell him the whole story, don’t you?”

 

I hesitated. No, honestly, I didn’t really think it was a good idea. In fact, I thought it was a horrible idea. But I wasn’t sure anymore if that was because I honestly felt that way or because I didn’t want anyone knowing about the letters. I couldn’t say why, but they made me feel ashamed, as though I had done something wrong. It was a ridiculous notion and I’d brushed it from my mind a thousand times, but after last night I was even more vulnerable than I usually was and everything seemed to be eating away at me.

 

Shaking my head slowly, I said, “Will it really do any good, though? I mean, finding a person is one thing, but this? There are no names on these letters, no return addresses, nothing! All I know is that he was…” I broke off, clenching my eyes shut tightly. I took a deep steadying breath, and when I opened my eyes again, I found that Saber had come around the counter to stand beside me. He hesitated a half a second, then placed a large, comforting hand on my back.

 

“What? He was what?” he pressed, his voice gentling until it was almost soothing despite what he was asking me.

 

I worried at my lower lip before finally answering him. “Some of the things he said…he couldn’t have known them if he wasn’t there, but they really happened.”

 

For a moment, I was silent, letting the meaning of my words sink in. I saw when they did. Saber’s shoulders when rigid and his hand stopped moving along my back. I risked a look at his face and saw that it was tight with anger, the muscles of his jaw working hard as he clenched his teeth tightly.

 

After a moment, he said, “He’s been watching you.”

 

I broke down and explained to him about the letters. I’d started getting them almost a year ago now. Saber was thoroughly shocked to discover that I’d been receiving them for so long, but I quickly explained that they hadn’t been like this in the beginning. It wasn’t all just anger and threats. The letters had started out sweet, just like any other fan letter.

 

My Dear Miss Renee…

 

They had begun early on when he was still sounding charming, if a little off.

 

I have seen every last one of your movies and think you are an absolute charm. You are a gift to us all and I can only feel blessed personally to have been so close to greatness through your work.

 

It was all gushing flattery. And I admitted it, part of me liked it. It was nice to be told you were doing good work, that you were spectacular. But I also noted the flowery word choice and the rambling letters about how I was like a true star, bright and burning long after my time had come and gone.

 

That started to get creepy and it only got worse from there.

 

I want you to know how happy you’ve made me these last few months, the letters began to tell me, like a man speaking to his lover, how you’ve made me glow with joy and a careless frivolity. You’ve made me the happiest man alive.

 

And that was how I began to understand that the tone of his letters were changing. He was telling me how good we were together and how much in common we had, how we were connected in pleasantly unexpected ways.

 

The letters started to describe things in my life that left me feeling uneasy, and one, just one, included a picture of me that could have been from the paparazzi—but probably wasn’t.

 

“The letter with the picture,” Saber questioned, still seeming tense and angry. “That was when they started having details? And when they started getting angrier?”

 

I nodded. “Some of the things in the letters he could have known from the press,” I admitted. “But some of it…” I shook my head. “There were details that the press didn’t have and the pictures didn’t show. And yet he knew them. It means…it means that he must have been watching when…” I tried to hold back a sob, but couldn’t. I clamped my hand down hard across my mouth, at the very least trying to quiet the noise.

 

“Shh,” Saber told me, his voice gentle again as he pulled me against his broad chest. “Shh, it’s alright. Everything will be alright.”

 

I didn’t really believe him, but I wanted to. So I let myself lean against him and sob a moment as he stroked my damp hair. We stayed like that for a while before I finally pulled away, using the bottom of my t-shirt to wipe at my tears.

 

At least I’m not wearing makeup, I thought stupidly. It was the last thing that mattered, all things considered, but my looks were safe and whimsy enough that I didn’t have to really be worried or afraid. They were something almost neutral to think of.

 

When I’d calmed down, he pushed the coffee towards me. “Drink your coffee,” he commanded as I watched him pull out his cell phone.

 

I accepted the mug, but eyed his phone suspiciously. “What are you doing?” I asked him before taking a sip.

 

He looked over at me, considering something before he finally said, “I’m calling Ryder.”

 

I was up in a shot, spilling a little of my coffee over the sides and onto the counter. “No! You can’t!”

 

But Saber only shook his head. “I’m sorry, but this is a big deal now. If you really do have a stalker—”

 

I winced. This was the first time anyone, myself included, had called it what it really was. Someone was stalking me. And if that didn’t terrify me, nothing would.

 

“—then we need to inform Ryder. Maybe he can use the letters to track him. At the very least, he’ll know how serious this is.”

 

I was shaking my head, though I knew in my heart that Saber was right. I was just being stubborn and didn’t want to admit it. “We don’t need to do anything!” I argued. “He doesn’t have to know, no one does. This can stay between you and me and…”

 

I broke off because he was giving me a strong paternal look and I didn’t really like it when men I was attracted to gave me paternal looks. I wanted them to look at me like I was lust incarnate. I wanted them to see me as a goddess, someone to lust after and admire and adore. Not as some child they needed to protect.

 

But then his gaze eased and I saw that beneath that so called paternal look was something else. It was just as protective, but it was darker, too. Deeper. He stepped close to me again, setting his phone on the counter beside my spilled coffee. Then he put his hands on my upper arms, wrapping them around the skin just beneath the edges of my sleeves so that I could feel his heat soaking in through my skin.

 

“I promise you, I will protect you,” he told me seriously, his voice solemn as though he were taking a holy vow. “I will stand by you and make sure that you are safe no matter what. I won’t let anything happen to you, Renee, you have my word. But you’ve got to help me. You’ve gotta let me protect you. Won’t you let me do that?”

 

I stared up into his dark eyes, mesmerized by them. I felt as though I were falling into their deep, dark pools, wrapped up in something as thick as tar and as warm and soft as a wool blanket. It was something I wasn’t sure I could ever get out of. Something that would trap me and keep me and damnit, I wanted to let it.

 

Licking my lips, I finally nodded. “Yes, I’ll let you.”

 

In that moment, all I wanted to do was reach up and kiss him. I wanted to tangle my hands in his hair and hold him against me until our bodies were so close that they were one. And I thought that maybe he was feeling that same thing—those smoldering eyes, the way they darted to my slightly parted lips—but then he swallowed heavily and nodded once. His full mouth dipped into a small smile.

 

“Thank you,” he said.

 

Then he pulled away. I was left with a bereft feeling and at the same time like I was coming down off of one hell of a drug.

 

Saber snatched up his phone and dialed Ryder’s number. It rang several times and then my uncle must have picked up because Ryder was talking. He was explaining what was going on and I winced, waiting for him to tell about the dangerous disaster that had been last night. But he didn’t. Instead, he focused on the letters and how he thought they might have been connected to the man who attacked me the other night.

 

I folded my arms across my chest, waiting as he spoke. There were pauses where Uncle Ryder spoke and I couldn’t hear that, obviously, then Saber would answer again.

 

“No, no name or address,” Saber said in a gruff voice. He was half turned away from me, but every so often he would look my way, his eyes a smoldering promise of what could be.

 

I couldn’t figure out why he hadn’t kissed me.

 

Doesn’t he want me? I wondered silently, but didn’t like that thought at all, so I turned back to my coffee and waited for him to finish the conversation.

 

I listened as Saber went on about the letters—and I could hear the strain in his voice. Whatever Ryder’s reaction, it was very obviously not good. Not even a little bit. Which I hadn’t expected it to be. At some point, I heard Saber say, “…she’s in the shower” causing me to glance over at him. It was followed by a sly smile and a “Did you still want me to take the phone to her?”

 

As I realized what he was saying, I felt a smile unfurl on my lips. Saber winked at me and I covered my mouth to hide a giggle. I watched him as he continued to talk to Ryder. I suddenly wanted to know what Ryder had to say to that, but not enough to actually speak to him. Saber’s smile flickered for an instant, but it was so quick that I might have imagined the whole thing.

 

I watched him a while longer, then reached for my coffee again.

 

They spoke for a while and I drank my coffee. It wasn’t hot enough to burn off my taste buds, but it was still plenty warm. When they were finally finished, I heard Saber’s boots on the floor as he approached me.

 

He put a large, warm hand on my shoulder and when I turned to look at him my stomach did a flip-flop. I sucked in a quick breath, suddenly feeling deprived of oxygen, though that was utterly ridiculous. As I looked up at him now, I wondered what it was about him that made me want to curl up against him, to run my hands along those large, hard muscles. Why I wanted so desperately for him to kiss me and slide his tongue into my mouth.

 

“I told Ryder,” he informed me, though of course I obviously already knew. His voice was deep and heady, his eyes twin dark pools. “He’s going to look into it, but I’ll have to get the letters to him.”

 

“I thought you said you weren’t going to leave me?”

 

No, that wasn’t exactly what he said. He had said that he would protect me against everything, but how was he going to do that if he wasn’t here with me anyway?

 

He frowned a little at that, but nodded. “I know. And I meant it. But we’ve got to find this asshole, Renee. Look, he said he’s going to call me back. We were interrupted and he still needs more info. I’ll see if someone else will pick up the letters.”

 

He didn’t look wholly happy about that and it made me squirm a little. How could he already want so badly to leave? Hadn’t things shifted between us?

 

But then I wondered if it wasn’t only me who had shifted, not him. I remembered the passion of that kiss the night before and decided that, no, this was definitely not one sided. At least not entirely. He wanted me, that much I was ninety percent sure of.

 

“Okay,” I told him in a small voice. “Good.”

 

His eyes burned and I wondered at how easily I found myself drawn to this dark, handsome man.